Keilan casually stepped to the side, tapping away the sword that swiped for his neck. He smiled as his opponent came back with a backhanded swing, and tilted his head back just enough for the blade to pass under his chin harmlessly.

  His hand launched forth, knuckles rapping against his opponent's shoulders slightly enough to send their bones shivering, not to cause physical mutilation. His attack worked and his grin stretched wider when the blade fell from the shaking hand of his opponent.

  They growled in frustration, a piece of leaf appearing suddenly from behind their back to zip for his face. His eyebrows rose as the sharpened flora sped for him, and he watched in slow motion, tilting his head sideways, as the leaf zipped past his face.

  Keilan's hands reached out, snapping the green construct just as it made to disappear into the distance.

  He inspected it, noting the durability and sharpened edges.

  “Not bad,” he nodded, letting the construct dissipate. “But I believe you can do better.”

  Rather than respond verbally, they launched themselves at him, this time manifesting a small swarm of leaves to cut at him.

  “Oh?” he smiled, reaching out to snap the thirty-six-bladed constructs out of the air as he pushed himself out of reach.

  He moved to fling them back to their sender and laughed when they disappeared from his grip. He could have contested the claim of energy, given they were not strong enough yet to hold sole Dominion, but he let it go.

  “Good, good, now that's more like it! Now come at me harder! I want your strongest punch.”

  “Are you sure? You're not worried I'll damage the room?”

  Keilan snorted. “I couldn't damage it even if I wanted to. Give me all you've got.”

  The training hall they were using was a public one Keilan had rented within the city. It was frequented mainly by wielders who were self-made, with no backers behind them. It wasn't as advanced as the one he'd had been bequeathed by Lady Verrille, made solely for him, but it was still strong enough to contain even the full strength of a first Domain Spirit King.

  A formation was buried under the brown wooden floor for far advanced training, increased gravity endurance, and tactics training against surface-to-air projectile attacks. Pillars lined the room, enchanted for the sole purpose of calculating the level of energy released by the occupants, as well as suppressing the powers of those preparing to head into locations where the essence saturation was not up to the average standard.

  Against the walls were racks of weapons upon weapons, each differing type, each stacked against each other, more than Keilan had seen in a single room in his entire years of living. This was more than the entire armory of some Kingdoms back in Ra.

  The walls themselves had runes and enchantments buried beneath their surface layers, made for the purpose of containing energies in case of emergencies. However, they had a certain level they could hold. Anything more than that, and it was more likely the building was going down.

  Keilan did not worry, though. Anything capable of breaking those enchantments was more likely to wipe out this small section of the city.

  He laughed when his opponent came up at him, relentlessly lashing with their sword—which they'd picked back up as Keilan backtracked to avoid their earlier attacks—and the swarm of bladed leaves.

  Keilan decided to up the game, and rather than retreat this time, he launched himself forward, meeting his opponent's attacks with his own.

  He made sure not to use his essence, as that was most likely to cause more damage than he could control. Instead, he used his fingers, playing them simultaneously to flick as many leaf blades away from him as possible. The ones he was too slow to shift aside, he moved away from, upping his speed slightly enough to surpass those of the projectiles.

  Keilan's hand lashed out, his knuckles moving to rap once again on his opponent's shoulders. He made sure to telegraph the attack, and grinned when his opponent caught on and took adequate countermeasures.

  A giant leaf appeared between his reaching knuckles and his opponent’s skin, and Keilan chuckled when rather than hitting flesh, his knuckles met the surface of the glass like constructs, halting cold on its tracks.

  He could have broken it, easily, but he'd also toned down his strength, lowered it just a bit above his opponent's, enough to deal pain that could be felt, not enough to turn their body into bloody mist.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Hope you know I could have shattered that?”

  “Sure,” his opponent replied, breath already lagging, “but that would be against the rules.”

  “We agreed no Spirit lord strength,” Keilan conceded as he gently pushed aside the sword coming up to disembowel him from the bottom up. “But I don't need the strength of a Spirit lord to break your defensive technique, or any of your techniques at all.”

  “Keilan, are you trying to train me, or are you trying to demoralize me? Because if it's the latter, I'm sorry to say, but you're succeeding perfectly.”

  Keilan shrugged as he reached forward, gently redirecting the path of a leaf back to its sender. It dissipated almost as soon as it was turned around, but Keilan wasn't disappointed. He'd tried this strategy more than once now, and despite the sufficient pressure he'd kept on his opponent, they had still found a way to keep him from turning their own weapons against them.

  “Who says I can't train you in more ways than one?” He continued. “Psychological attacks are almost as dangerous as any technique you could throw. A good one could even bring down a foe with more powers than you.”

  “You speak from experience?”

  Keilan thought about it as he flicked aside the blade aiming for his throat with one hand while the other flicked against his opponent's chest.

  Their defensive technique triggered, a giant leaf manifesting in front of their figure, but he wasn't going gentle this time. His fingers landed, shattering the construct and sending his opponent flying backward to fall and roll across the ground in a whoosh of air.

  “Ow! That was… ow?” They said as they slowly pushed up.

  “Painful, yes, but not as much as when we began, yeah?” He smiled.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, you're right.”

  “Good,” Keilan nodded, waiting for them to finally get up. “I'm glad you're beginning to see my efforts.”

  “I still don't, to be honest. I get that you want me to be strong, and I'm grateful for your help in bringing me up this far over these last few months of training, but I still don't see the reason why. I am perfectly safe in Ver, I do not need to be able to protect myself.”

  They'd had this argument countless times, and Keilan was not ready for another round of verbal exchange. He let out a rush of air through the side of his mouth, placing one hand on his waist while the other rose to halt the advance of his opponent.

  “Just… do it for me, okay? You don't see any point in this, but I do. I need to be certain that if I'm not around, you'll be able to take care of yourself.”

  “Keilan, anything that would make you worry would be absolutely fatal to me. I'm only an Adept, and not even at the peak of my Realm yet. All that I have achieved is with your sole assistance. I can barely deal with your toned-down strength as it is; no amount of training will help me stand against what your enemies will throw at me if they decide to target me.”

  Keilan brought his hand down to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He sighed, taking two quick breaths, and then he looked up. “Just bear with me. I'll take you hunting soon enough for materials to help you push for Lord Realm. In the meantime, I'll… try to see if I can arrange a few guards to protect you.”

  They arched an eyebrow, bringing both arms to fold over their noticeable burgeoning chest. “Keilan, I don't want to repeat this again; I do not want guards following me around. What would people say?”

  “... That you're being protected?”

  They snorted. “More like favoritism by my sugar daddy.”

  Keilan scrunched his face. “Please don't call me that, I'm no sugar daddy. Also, it makes me look old.” He waved it away. “But that's beside the point; what's their business if you did have a sugar daddy. Do not listen to public opinion, most are simply envy wrapped in fake, well-meaning advice. I bet you five black vicarii that most of those who criticize you will jump at the same opportunity when given the chance.”

  “I do not have a single black vicarii, Keilan, talkless of five. How am I supposed to make that bet?”

  “You don't? I could offer you one and you'd pay me back if your argument stands true.”

  A sigh, and Keilan braced. “How many times do I have to tell you? I do not want your money. You've helped me enough as it is, sponsoring my progression as well as the equipment I'm using, which is great, by the way, thank you for that. But that's as much as I'm willing to take from you. Anything more and I might punch you into the sun for thinking I'm weak and incapable of fending for myself.”

  “Okay, okay, tiger,” he surrendered. “I concede. I won't give you a single coin, not even a bronze vicari, either,” he smiled. “We can't continue this training again for today. How about I take you out on an impromptu date? There's this restaurant up in the merchant district. I swear their delicacies are beyond this world. Splendid!”

  “That's probably because they are beyond this world.” They chuckled. “Mos— Lord Verrille?”

  Keilan blinked. “Huh?” But his training partner had bent his waist, bowing and almost going down on his knees.

  He turned around, and there, standing at the entrance to the room, was Vanis.

  “Hello, Tym. I see you're having fun?” He responded.

  Tym opened his mouth, clearly lost on what to say, then muttered. “Yes, Lord Verrille, I am."

  Vanis nodded. “I apologize for interrupting your training. I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to borrow your boyfriend for a while.”

  Keilan narrowed his eyes on the man. Despite his genial response, he could tell something was very wrong.

  “Ah–um, there's no problem, Lord Verrille! I certainly do not mind!”

  “Please, call me Vanis.”

  “Okay, um, Lord– Va–Vanis,” he stuttered, a little bit too flustered. Keilan grimaced as Tym turned to him. “I'll see myself out. I've got to get to work, anyway. It's almost time for my shift. We'll see later?”

  “Yes, definitely,” Keilan nodded. “I'll pick you up when I'm done here.”

  Vanis waited until Tym had walked out the door before he tapped his fingers against the wall, waiting patiently as a thick, dense, energy barrier fell over the entrance, blocking his sight from the corridor beyond. Keilan also sensed a privacy barrier go up around them.

  “Once again, I apologize for interrupting what must have been a private moment, but it couldn't wait.”

  “What happened?” Keilan asked.

  “It's Sareina, she's been kidnapped.”